


Ten Months Sober I Must Admit

by NarryEm



Series: Don't Wanna Hurt Anymore (you used to shine so bright) [5]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cheating, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time passes.  Memories don’t fade.  Fate and chance refuses to let the past stay in the past.<br/>Or, the story of Harry and Niall’s reconciliation that’s not quite a reconciliation and a future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Months Sober I Must Admit

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “ _Clean_ ” by Taylor Swift aka my favourite song ever because when the album came out, it was something I could relate to 100% and still can. 
> 
> For those of you who have just stumbled across this, I suggest that you read the previous parts of the series because this is definitely not a stand-alone piece. The timeline in this is both before and after the fourth part so be aware of that.  
> I’ve tried this writing format in a different fandom and hopefully, it worked out well. You’ll be the judge of that, I suppose. This also suffers from me trying sound poetic at random intervals.  
> A bit of a warning: if my writing style is noticeably different towards the end, well, I first started writing this around May. I focused more on smaller-scale stories when I got a summer job and with school . . . yeah I don’t have an excuse.  
> What I ~~should be~~ am trying to say is: thank you so much for still reading this!

_10 months sober, I must admit_  
_Just because you’re clean_  
_Don’t mean you don’t miss it_

_10 months older, I won’t give in_  
_now that I’m clean_  
_I’m never gonna risk it_

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

Harry stares out the window as the rain comes pouring down in the London cityscape. He’s finally ready. It took a long time but now, he’s ready to pick up the phone and call Niall for the first time in ten months.

He’s practiced what he would say a million, billion times in the past month. He has memorised every single thought and emotion that he wants to confess. He now understands what it means to let someone into his heart all over again and hope that Niall will hear the sincerity in his voice.

So he picks up the phone, dials the painfully familiar number and waits.

 

 

-

 

****

**_Ten Months Ago_ **

 

Niall stares out the window with a blank, bored expression. Mother Nature has been a bitch to England as usual and he feels as though he could drown in the rain. He smiles bitterly at the sentiment. Only if the rain could carry away all the memories and free him of his past.

So he opens up the windows and steps out into the balcony. His flat owner will probably chew him out for ruining the carpet but he can deal with it later. Tears run down his cheeks and burn as they flow uncontrollably. Some seeps inside his mouth, salty and as bitter as he feels.

Why can’t he get past this? It’s been a few weeks already and his best method of coping with the break-up has been to drink until he can’t remember why he wanted to drink in the first place. The hangovers are adding up to not much sleep and the sleep deprivation isn’t helping with his mood at all.

His heart gives a painful squeeze again and he can’t. He can’t breathe again and he collapses to the cold concrete floor of the balcony and wraps his arms around his torso tightly. He’s scared that he’ll shatter into smithereens if he doesn’t hold himself together, and there’s no one who can make him whole again.

“Fuck,” he mutter, voice swallowed up by the howling winds and water. “Feckin’ pathetic, Horan!” he screams into the storm. Then he slaps the ground with his hand, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm.

Soaked to the bone, he returns inside and trudges to the bathroom, leaving behind tiny puddles. He picks up his mobile from the bedside and taps shuffle on top of his music and starts filling up the tub. A laugh bubbles up in his throat when “ _Clean_ ” comes on. Perfect.

He doesn’t bother peeling off his drenched clothes before he climbs into the tub and submerges himself completely. The beat of the music thrums along his skin and numbs the pain. Just a touch.

His lungs start to protest after a couple minutes pass and the tight, uncomfortable sensation travels up his neck and down it. He fights it off for a few more seconds out of spite before he springs up and gulps in the air.

The burning sensation distracts from the constant ache in his heart, if only for a short moment. As soon as his body’s circulation is back to normal, his thoughts are consumed by the words Harry said, the voice mail that he still can’t delete, and the look on Harry’s face as he said his final goodbye.

Thoughts go round and round in his, chasing and forming endless circles but in the end, they are all about Harry. He can’t help it and he hates himself for it.

Ever since the break-up became official, it’s like he is walking around with half a heart. He’s been trying so hard to get Harry out of his head. He feels like he’s lost, and he can’t see the good of his current situation no matter what angle he takes.

Heartbreak is the worst, and there is no way to make light of it.

“You nutter,” Ashton yells as he stomps into the bathroom. Niall doesn’t even flinch at the voice as they have had the misfortune of walking into each other’s rooms whilst the other was naked (or worse). “I come back from a day’s hard work and you go and leave the damned window open. I thought the heating broke again!”

Ashton’s anger visibly vaporises when he takes one look at Niall’s face. “Don’t listen to Taylor Swift when you’re in a mood,” he mutters as he pauses “ _Wildest Dreams_ ”. He drags Niall out of the tub. Niall notes how his fingers have gone all prune-like. Ashton rambles about ‘that fucker who needs his head screwed on right’ and towels Niall dry. He throws the towel over Niall’s head and pushes him into his bedroom.

“Go cocoon yourself in bed and don’t you dare think about leaving it ‘til I say you can.”

Niall has half a mind to tell him off but he lets Ashton boss him around. He obediently wraps himself up in the duvet and dozes off to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Nine Months Ago_ **

 

 _Rain has its own kind of beauty_ , Harry thinks. Living in London means that he has had to get used to it even during summer and there’s no way that a bit of downpour is going to interrupt is daily afternoon jog. Sure, the cold of it has seeped into his bones and he can barely feel the tips of his fingers and toes but running mutes his thoughts for the duration and thinking is something that he doesn’t want to do a lot of right now.

He watches the raindrops fall and join the puddles on the pavement as he jogs back to his house. A few people pass him by on his way and it’s just his damn luck that they seem to be in relationships, wrapped up in their little bubbles and insulated from the outside world.

The door to his flat is unlocked and Harry curses Nick’s name. Not again.

“Get the fuck out,” he growls before he even sees Nick.

“I brought some Haribo and legit champagne,” Nick lifts up a plastic bag. “And the entire _Friends_ series just in case you would need the extra cheering up. As usual, I am right and you are an utter mess.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He peels off his sopping clothes down to his bare skin and Nick doesn’t even bat an eyelash as Harry trudges to the bathroom.

The hot water is soothing, or so Harry guesses it’s supposed to be. He pours half the contents of the bath bubbles that Nick once bought him as a joke a while ago into the water and unnaturally sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafts up to his nose. In the distance, he can hear Nick talking to someone, presumably on the mobile. Unless he’s developed a habit for talking to himself, that is. Knowing Nick, that wouldn’t be a shocking development. He slips down, inch by inch, until his head is completely immersed under the water.

It’s calming, trying his best not to think about the perfect storm that is his life. He stays under as long as he can, until his lungs are burning and screaming for oxygen. Tears have begun to leak out of his eyes without his realising and it pisses him off. He swore to himself that he won’t let himself be bogged down by what happened with Niall.

(But he’s shit at keeping promises.)

“Y’know,” Nick drawls as Harry pads into the kitchen with only a towel wrapped around his waist twenty minutes later. “You look so pretty when you cry. It’s a talent, ‘cause I look properly like a horse when I cry so you’re lucky there.”

Harry laughs. Nick’s a great friend, always knowing how to cheer him up. Large fingers wipe his tears away and Nick hands over a plate of fry-up even though it’s about three in the afternoon.

“He’s probably feeling worse, y’know,” Nick murmurs. “Don’t think he’s had his heart broken by anyone else in his pretty little life. You probably had the privilege of doing it away with him.”

Harry frowns and stabs at the piece of black pudding with his fork. It was only self-defence and self-preservation. After his own disastrous heartbreak, he vowed to never love another person.

Funny how life turns out.

“Joking about it won’t make things better. He probably hates my guts and his mates are planning how to assassinate me. Don’t be surprised when you find my body here one of these days. Poetic justice and all.”

“Morbid,” Nick comments. “You were a right knob for breaking up with him, though. What kind of an idiot is afraid of love this much?”

Harry sighs. “The word you’re looking for is philophobia. Google it.”

“Nah,” Nick slides into the seat next to him. “I’m too lazy for that, you know it.”

He feels knackered all of a sudden. Because he’s a good boy brought up with good manners by his mum, he finishes what Nick’s cooked up. “I’m tired,” he announces. “Cuddle me?”

Nick shakes his head fondly. “I swear I spoil you the most. Only ‘cause you’re Haz.”

Harry smiles, knowing that it doesn’t reach his eyes quite much. “You’re the best, Grimmy.”

He crawls into bed and pats the space next to him for Nick. He closes his eyes and thinks about how he and Niall fall asleep underneath the same sky. He wonders if Niall thinks about him at night, looking out the window at the dark, rainy day.

He wonders if Niall hates him now. If he does, well, that won’t be the worst thing that has happened in his life. He deserves to be hated by Niall.

 

****

**_-_ **

****

****

**_Present_ **

 

The rain can get tiresome at some point during the year. Niall has been living in London for quite some time now but he has to admit, he prefers the near-constant rain to unpredictable whims of Mother Nature back in Ireland.

He is alone in his flat for once. Ashton was talking his ear off earlier when he was getting ready for his anniversary date with Josh. The Aussie doesn’t know it, but Josh has been braving himself up to propose to him for weeks now. It’s just their luck that the timing was always off or Josh chickened out. They both can be such idiots at times.

Just as he is about to ring up Greg to see if Theo wants to see Uncle Ni, his mobile starts ringing. It’s a number Niall doesn’t recognise but he takes it anyway, seeing that it’s still got a London area code.

“’Ello?”

“Hey, Niall. It’s me.”

 

 

-

****

****

**_Eight Months Ago_ **

 

The texts have left Niall unsettled for the rest of the week. It’s a miracle that he didn’t botch his test. But outside of school, he can barely be arsed to keep up with Ashton and Josh’s conversations and his appetite has gone down (which worries his friends the most). It’s not at all his fault that whenever he closes his eyes _his_ face comes floats into his mind with the look on his face, lit through the darkness with stark clarity.

“You need to meet someone new,” Ashton declares. “I know that it’s cliché to say something like mend a broken heart with a new love. Mend it with parts of someone else’s heart that’s whole, I dunno. We’re sad seeing you be all sad and we just want you to be happy. Do you know how many times I’ve had to lie to your mum whenever she’s asked about why you sound so down when you’ve talked with her?”

Niall shrugs. “I don’t know if I can really let it go. What if he was pretending from the start? That changes everything, don’t it?”

Josh is in front of his eyes before Niall has had the time to blink. He’s hauled up roughly by his shirtfront and Josh is shaking him lightly. “Okay, time for molly-cuddling has passed. We love you, idiot, and that’s why we can’t sit by idly and wait for you to pick yourself up. All those slags that you bring home, they aren’t helping. Sex isn’t the solution for everything and we can see that it’s only hurting you. Don’t think for a second that Ash hasn’t noticed that most of them had either curly brown hair or green eyes. Please, for your sake and ours, do something.”

Niall stands still in shock. Josh isn’t an aggressive person by nature and wow, he must have fucked up so badly if his actions have driven Josh to act like this.

“Sorry,” he mutters. Josh drops his hands with a deep sigh.

Ashton stands up and walks out of the lounge. Niall cranes his neck and sees that Ashton is striding into Niall’s bedroom. “Hey!” he calls out. He follows Ashton into his own room. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

“We,” Ashton shoves a duffel bag at Niall’s chest, “are going on a road trip.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Harry,” Nick’s voice booms from the flat door. Harry groans and turns away from the source of the interruption from his nap. It was a bad idea to fall asleep on the couch but nothing good was on the telly other than a re-run of the _Great British Bake-off_ and he had been too lazy to drag himself back to his room. “Get off your lazy arse. We’re going on a trip.”

Harry peers up at Nick with squinted eyes. “Are you drunk this early on a Saturday afternoon?” he questions. Nick is known for his unfiltered antics but this is out of sorts even for him.

Nick scoffs and rolls his eyes at the same time. “The pathetic forlorn act is getting old and I, being your gracious friend, am dragging your arse out of this filth of a house and going on a road trip. I hear that the Dover Beach is lovely this time of the year. Choice is but an illusion in this world we live so we are going no matter what you say.”

He drops a carry-on bag oh so gracefully on the sofa, inches away from Harry’s head. “You could’ve given me a bloody concussion!” Harry protests.

Nick reaches over and powers off the telly. “That would have knocked some sense back into your thick-skulled head. Now off you go. I am not letting you be seen in the public in that atrocity next to me. Can’t pull pretty young things when my wingman looks like utter and literal trash.”

Harry only pulls a face at Nick before he goes to comply. He supposes that his usual black jeans and obscure band shirt combo would appease Nick. (And he’s right.) Nick only loads the car with the bag plus a few of Harry’s spare shirts and boxers before they jet off to Starbucks for coffee (“We might end up driving through the night and I am _not_ trusting you with my car.”).

“You do realise that we’ve driven maybe two miles from my flat so far,” Harry points out dryly.

Nick slaps his shoulder blindly and makes a sharp turn onto to the highway. “Whatever. Prepare to be amazed by my travelling skills. Feel free to take a nap. I personally prefer to drive in silence and I do not need any criticisms on my driving.”

Harry shrugs and pulls out his earphones so that he can listen to his music. He taps the play button and “I Almost Do” starts to play. He’s reminded of how the song was playing when texted Niall about a month ago. That was rather random and the result of five whisky shots in the span of less than half an hour. Whatever. Niall probably read it off as drunken texts, not something serious. Besides, Harry can’t handle the thought of Niall starting to mull over their relationship. He’s clearly not ready for one if he couldn’t handle someone as sweet and pure-hearted as Niall.

Surprisingly enough, Harry does sleep through the majority of the way to Dover Beach. The famous cliffs are crowded with people and Nick nearly succeeds in pushing Harry into the water at the base of the cliffs. Since the sea won’t be warming up for another couple months, Harry thanks his lucky stars for not failing him for once.

As expected, Nick googles up the cheapest motel around and Harry is content enough with the bed and breakfast that they wind up in. The owner—a middle-aged woman—seems to have mistaken them for a couple and visibly coos over them as she guides them to their room. Just like Harry suspected, it’s a one-bed room with lurid red sheets and duvet, complete with heart-shaped pillows and candles around the bed. Nick is barely holding in his laughter as is and as soon as she leaves, Nick bursts out laughing.

“Why is it that people think I’d go out with you?” Nick asks in-between his guffaws.

Harry frowns and feigns hurt. “Hey! I’m plenty desirable.”

“Nope. You’re too clumsy and not even your pretty little face can make up for it.”

“But my wicked skills with my mouth might,” Harry waggles his tongue at Nick.

“This is exactly why we come off as a couple madly in love,” Nick sighs. He throws his carry-on on the bed and pulls out a ratty pair of joggers and a tee-shirt with a neckline that’s been stretched out too much. “Dibs on the first shower.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waves it off and plops onto the bed. He is knackered despite the little nap and maybe he’ll just shower in the morning. His curls tend to be less frizzy when he does that anyway.

And before he knows it, he is drifting off to a dream.

 

The dream is weird in a sense that the world is black and white. The sky is a kaleidoscope of varying shades of greys and whites and the trees on the sides of pavements are pretty much the same. Dozens of faceless people pass him by in a blur, never once acknowledging his presence.

He looks down only to find out that his legs and shoes are completely black. Okay, nothing out of the ordinary there. But panic starts to creep in when even his hands and bare arms are black, none of his tattoos showing through the desolate colour. There is a shop with large windows a few steps away and when Harry checks out his own reflection, all he sees is a shadow in the shape of his body.

“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He touches his cheek with one hand and the thing in the window mirrors his actions.

Harry sort of collapses onto the pavement. Someone literally steps over him so he has to relocate closer to the wall of the shop. And because apparently his life is a bloody romantic comedy film, rain starts to pour down on him in sheets. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, he supposes. Rain can feel refreshing and in his current state, a clear head is exactly what he needs. Probably.

Time crawls by and eventually, his surroundings are morphed into something different. The next time Harry looks up from the cradle of his arms, he is sat on a field of grass.

A cool breeze blows through the meadow and Harry lets his eyes slip shut again. The gentle zephyr feels amazing against his skin, especially when it lifts the long strands of his curls off the nape of his neck. The world is still an eerie melange of greys and Harry honestly doesn’t care anymore. Maybe this is some Freudian shite about how his subconscious is yearning for some resolve in his conscious state or summat. (He didn’t pay close attention to his introductory psychology course.)

Brightness explodes across his closed eyelids and he snaps them open out of reflex. In front of him is none other than Niall, who is the only one in full bloom of vibrant colours. He must have given up on the ombré hair thing because the roots are dyed blonde and that somehow accentuates the blue of his eyes. Niall smiles that beautiful smile and Harry can imagine girls at some rock star concert screaming his name. He has done nothing to deserve that genuine smile, though. A slap, definitely, but nothing this heart-warming.

“What are you doing here, silly?” Niall asks, smile still on his face full-force.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Harry admits.

Niall sits down next to him and proceeds to lay down. “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they? Looks like they could come pouring down on us any second.”

“Poetic,” Harry comments. Niall giggles and turns over, propping up his chin on one arm.

“That’s me. I did take one course in English about gothic literature. Mostly because Zayn wanted someone to drag into class with him but I did learn lots so no losses there.”

Niall has reached out with one hand so that he can curl a loose strand of Harry’s hair around his forefinger. He is barely tugging at it, but it still doesn’t fail to send a faint shiver down Harry’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts out.

Blue eyes widen. “What’re ya apologising for? Unless you forgot something, I don’t know what brought this on.”

Harry blinks slowly. Oh, right. Right now, right here, everything must be perfect, and before the storm broke loose. He wonders if he can do literally anything that he can’t be brave enough for in the real world.

“I wish this could be real,” Harry murmurs and leans into Niall’s touch. Niall is sat next to him now, and he gingerly positions Harry’s head in his lap. It’s soothing to have Niall’s slim fingers carding through his hair, occasionally pulling at some tangles but that’s alright with Harry.

“You’re acting awfully odd today,” Niall chirps.

Then Harry remembers. Earlier, he was nothing but a black lump in the shape of a person. How did Niall recognise him then? When he looks down at his outstretched hand, he sees the same black from before.

Except, it’s not. When Niall takes his free hand and intertwines their fingers together, he sees the colour leach out from Niall and into his own hand. The parts of his body that aren’t in contact with Niall remain the same. Fucking hell.

“I’m such a coward,” Harry mutters. He shields his eyes with his forearm, but that lasts a few seconds at maximum. Niall’s warm hand pushes it away so that their eyes meet.

“Seriously, what’s the matter, Styles? You bring me out here for some romantic shit and all you’ve done so far is space out on me. I swear, if you—”

The rest of his little rant is trapped in his mouth as Harry drags Niall’s face down for a kiss. It was meant to be a soft, chaste kiss but the familiar taste and softness of Niall’s lips ignite a long-forgotten hunger within him. Instead of pulling away like he had planned, he grips the nape of Niall’s neck harder and traces the seam of his mouth until Niall gives. It makes Harry’s heart clench with pain and regret as they kiss like they used to all those months ago.

If only reality were this simple.

 

 

-

 

 

Niall sees it now that _he’s_ gone. Well, sort of. Long were the nights (and days) when his days revolved around _him_. They still are, given the way that he hasn’t had much motivation to get his act together. The only thing that is keeping him sane is his incredibly supportive friends who never left him. Although, he is beginning to question their sanity as Ashton checks into a decrepit B &B and Josh hasn’t loosened his grip on his arm. Thankfully, the room they get has got two beds.

“Don’t even think about fucking in the shower,” Niall warns when Josh throws himself at Ashton to demand a kiss.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it, Horan,” Ashton answers a beat after their kiss ends. “I’ve got an idea, though. How about we go down to the beach and go for a skinny dip? Every lad’s gotta do it at least once in his life!”

Niall scowls. “You do realise that Dover Beach is one of the top destinations for tourists and Brits alike?”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a bore, Nialler. C’mon, it’ll be fun! We’ll do it in some godforsaken corner away from lights so that you won’t have to worry about some strangers staring at your bits.”

“I like my bits fully attached to my body and inside warm boxers, fuck you very much,” Niall replies. “Do it with just Ashton. I’m sure it’s some weird foreplay that ya fuckers are planning.”

“Please?” Josh starts pouting and looks up at him with big brown eyes.

“No, absolutely not.” But he’s sort of powerless against Josh who, much like Liam, has the damned puppy face mastered.

Ten minutes later, the three of them are puttering out to the godforsaken corner of the damned beach. It’s still chilly, being early in May and Niall regrets ever being kind to the short boy with sweet brown eyes when he first moved to England all those years ago, bonding over the fact that they were both not English and recently moved countries..

“I hate you,” Niall grits out as he strips off his jumper. Ashton and Josh shrug in synchronisation and it’s still creepy how long-term couples manage that. The said couple are already down to their pants and seem to be using the little extra time to snog their faces off.

“We were just keeping warm,” Josh mutters as a way of an excuse.

When they are down to their birthday suits, Ashton is the first to dip his feet into the frigid ocean water. He is soon tackled to the water by Josh and in the middle of the chaos, they manage to pull Niall down as well. After a few minutes of loud, creative swearing and wrestling, they wade out of the water and wrap themselves in the fluffy towels.

“That was refreshing,” Ashton smirks.

“Yeah, and I think me balls retracted a few inches,” Niall grumbles. He shakes the water out of his hair and as he looks up to where the B&B is, he thinks that he sees a familiar tall quiff. When he blinks, the figure has retreated back inside of the building.

“Whatever,” Josh hands him his clothes and Niall redresses as quickly as he can. His fingertip are numb from the cold but he can’t deny the fact that it was quite amusing to let go of his woes and just be a normal guy around his mates.

They stop by the nearby Tesco to buy some snacks and cup noodles to warm up. Since there is a liquor store nearby, they make a quick detour there as well.

Three bowls of noodle and ten shots of cheap vodka later, Niall finds himself playing Two Truths and a Lie. It’s like going back to primary school or the first year of college but it’s still fun. The hardest part about the game is coming up with details about himself that he can alter slightly since both Ashton and Josh know him inside and out.

“The second one is a lie,” Josh accuses.

“The one about fucking in the toilets of a strip club?” Niall reaffirms.

Ashton snickers. “Why were you at a strip club in the first place? Was is a ladies’ night and had all the fit blokes?”

“Maybe. And damn, you’re right Josh. It wasn’t a strip club, but a regular old club downtown.”

“Ha!” Josh fist-pumps and motions for Niall to take another shot.

The game then devolves into Never Have I Ever, much to Niall’s dismay. Sleep sounds like a heavenly idea at this point.

“Never have I ever, ah, fucked a girl,” Ashton says in-between manic fits of giggles. Both Niall and Josh groan as they chug down a shot each.

“This isn’t fair,” Josh whinges. “You know that you’re practically the one who made me realise I’m bi!”

Ashton leans over and kisses him with an exaggerated smooching sound.

“Ugh, gross,” Niall half-jokes.

“Your turn, then, Mr Grinch,” Ashton retorts.

“Never have I ever dumped someone’s arse ‘cause I was afraid.”

The words just spill out of his mouth before he can think through. Silence hangs heavy between them and Niall bites his lower lip. It’s a thought (more like a theory) that has been floating up to his mind lately. What if Harry ended things out of some twisted sense of self-preservation? Even when they were in their honeymoon phase, Niall’s instincts had known that something was up. He never knew Harry’s personal details outside of his family and Nick, and past was something that Harry avoided talking about.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Josh jumps in. “Good night and, er, yeah. Sweet dreams.”

Niall trudges over to the unoccupied bed and looks over at Josh and Ashton’s side. Once they are in bed, he turns off the lights and closes his eyes. Maybe he’ll wake up and forget about his stupid little epiphany in the morning.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I know that I fucked up big time and didn’t really take responsibility for it. But it’s different now. I’m ready to tell you everything now. It’s cliché to say this but I loved you, Niall James Horan, I still love you. There is nothing I want more than your forgiveness. I have never stopped loving you in the past ten months, not even for one second. Every morning that I wake up to a half-empty bed, I wish you would be there so I can wake you up with kisses. I miss you so much: your laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, how you were so doting on your nephew and kids in general, the taste of your lips . . . I just want you back in my life. I was the stupidest man in history to have walked out of your life. So, please, Niall, give me a second chance.”

The silence on the line is killing Harry. For a couple of seconds, all Harry can hear is the quiet breathing through the receiver.

“And what if I did?” Niall spits out. It sounds like he is swallowing back tears. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, or even open my heart up to anyone the way I did with you. A part of me died when you left and I’ve been broken ever since. You don’t know what I went through, and even if I did tell you there is nothing you can do to fix it.”

“I know that words can’t put your heart back together,” Harry insists. “But I swear to you that I will make it up to you with actions, not what you think are empty words. I want to see you again and have this talk in person, so you can look into my eyes and see the truth.”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Seven Months Ago_ **

 

“Niall!” Ashton’s voice approaches Niall’s lounge chair with worrying speed. Niall opens his eyes just time for Ashton to come barrelling into him and pick him up so that they can double-cannonball into the swimming pool.

“Hey, we just cleaned the pool!” Perrie complains. Zayn mirrors the look of disapproval perfectly and it’s really scary how they can do that.

“Soz,” Niall mutters. “Blame the crazy Aussie here.”

Ashton shrugs. “It’s summer, guys. Live a little. And Zayn, why’d you even buy a house with a pool if you can’t swim?”

Zayn scoffs. “It doesn’t get any funnier every time you ask that question. Aesthetics, babes. And Perrie insisted. Said something about how pool sex is hot and she was right.”

Ashton wrinkles his nose. “Ew, hetero sex.”

Zayn and Niall laugh, and Niall gets his revenge by shoving Ashton’s head underwater for a second whilst he is distracted.

“By the way,” Ashton says as he puts Niall in a loose headlock. “One of my friends from back home is gong to swing by soon. Zayn’s met him already.”

“Michael?” Zayn asks, clearly disinterested in helping out Niall in his current predicament. “Nice lad.”

A few minutes pass by before Michael arrives and in that small time frame, Niall has managed to get revenge on Ashton half a dozen times, except Ashton has succeeded in dunking him underwater twice as many times.

“He’s here!” Perrie calls out and a tall figure follows her into the pool area.

First thing that goes through Niall’s mind upon seeing Michael is ‘bright hair’ and then, ‘he’s fit.’ He seems to be taller than Niall and his light blue hair is very eye-catching. He smiles a bit shyly at them and Ashton runs up to him to wrap him into a tight hug.

“Michael, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Michael.”

Like the good lads they are, they all take turns introducing themselves briefly. Niall doesn’t miss the way Michael’s eyes glint when he hears Niall’s accent. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, whatever is brewing in the pit of his stomach. The light, fleeting touches that Michael sneaks in are definitely over the platonic line.

They somehow end up sleeping in the same guest bedroom, all of them being too drunk to walk or hail a cab home. Michael smells faintly like the mix of alcohols but also like the Armani cologne that _he_ used to wear all the time. Michael’s also very warm, pressed flush against Niall’s back. He must have moved in his sleep because at the beginning of the night—or at least, when they were all ordered to go to bed by Perrie—he and Michael had taken up the opposite sides of the bed right on the edge. But now, Michael’s wispy fringe is tickling the nape of Niall’s neck and soft snores ring in his ear.

Sighing, Niall detangles himself from Michael’s arms and sneaks into the kitchen. A glass of milk would probably help him sleep.

Instead of an empty kitchen, he is met with a wide-awake Perrie. She is holding a mug with both hands and offers him a warm smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Perrie asks, and Niall nods and stifles a yawn. He rummages through the fridge for milk (sadly it’s some almond milk shite, not a proper one) and pours himself a generous glass.

“What’s keeping you up?” Niall asks. Perrie shrugs, staring into her mug. Niall gives her a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I’m five weeks pregnant,” Perrie blurts out. Her words seem to bounce off the walls and echo in Niall’s ears. She and Zayn have been married for only a few months but Niall knows for a fact that they’ve discussed having babies even before they were engaged.

“Congratulations,” Niall says, his words sounding hollow and robotic even to his own ears. A baby. Zayn is going to be a father. With his wife Perrie. Eight months to go until their firstborn will be keeping them up at the oddest hours of the night. “Does Zayn know yet?”

Perrie nods. “I wanted you to be the first of the lads to know since Zayn is the closest to you. He wants you to be the godfather, I think.”

It’s weird. Niall is happy, terribly so. But that doesn’t stop the tears from welling up and stinging at the corners of his eyes until they fall down his cheeks. He can’t help it. Can’t help the memories that come flooding back.

 

 

 _Niall felt like his bones had liquefied into jelly and was more than happy to slump against_ him _as he carefully worked his fingers through Niall’s tangled hair._

 _“What’s your opinion on kids?”_ he _asked, fingertips massaging Niall’s temples._

_“Love ‘em. My nephew, Theo, is the cutest little angel on Earth. Although, I reckon he’ll be a nightmare once he is in the terrible twos or threes. Why?” he craned his neck around to look him in the eyes._

_“Nothing. I was trying to picture our married days.”_

_Niall smiled. They had discussed marriage before, only half-hearted after multiple rounds of fucking, of course, or drunk out of their minds that all they can manage is a fumbled hand job. It’s an untouchable thought, like the distant skies. “You talk about the silliest things.” He leant up to kiss him, as to soften the harshness in his words._

_“You know that I’m a bit of an airhead,” he replied gregariously._

_“But I love that about you too,” Niall admitted. Dawn’s first rays filtered in and Niall cursed himself for not regulating his sleep schedule once again. It’s tough when he often works late night shifts and comes home at two or three in the morning. He was lucky enough to have a boyfriend who will stay up for him to welcome home the ‘proper’ way._

_“Love you too, Nialler.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_He kept playing with Niall’s hair. “But seriously though. Let’s say that we get married and buy the house of our dreams. Then what?”_

_Niall smiled, making a purring noise when he started to massage his shoulders. He decided indulging him a bit wouldn’t hurt anyone. “First we’re going to buy a big puppy. Like a deerhound or something so that we have no choice but to go for a run every morning and evening. After a couple years, when we’ve got the hang of being real adults and all, we’ll adopt a cute little girl and name her Aislinn Maura. We’ll spoil her rotten like a true princess. I guess we’ll adopt two or three more kids if we think we can manage them and not fuck up.” As he finished his little fantasy, he can see it now in his mind so clearly._

_“Where would we raise our kids? Mullingar or somewhere in the English countryside? I don’t mind either.”_

_Niall pondered that for a moment. He knew that his own parents would want for him to stay close as he started his own family but wouldn’t_ his _parents want the same?_

_“What would your mum say? Y’know Ireland has the shittiest weather and flying or ferrying across is a gamble. She would not be happy if she missed our daughter’s first birthday because of a freak storm.”_

_“We’ll just have to plan it carefully.”_

_He buried his face in the back of Niall’s neck and starts to blow raspberry into it._

_“Hey, no fair! Y’know I’m ticklish!” Niall protested._

_Soon enough, he had Niall pinned beneath him, wrists captured above his head. Niall pouted as he rains kisses all over his face and neck, occasionally dipping down to the indecent levels to tease Niall._

_"Now that you've got me, what ya gonna do?" Niall smirked._

_"Wouldn't you love to know," he smirked back._

 

 

By the time Niall’s come back from the little trip down memory lane, Perrie has moved to wrap her arms around him. She's not as much as hugging him as she is squeezing him. It's comforting anyhow. The tears soak the shoulder of her tee-shirt (Niall is sure the faded Hulk tee belongs to Zayn) and she simply pats the back of his head. 

"I can't claim to know how you feel, Nialler but you need to let go of the past and him. You can't live with ghosts for the rest of your life and let the people in your life leave you. We know it's a tough time for you but it hurts us to see you like this. And besides, I think Michael seems a bit taken with you."

Niall wipes the tears from his eyes and offers her a shaky smile. "You're the best, Pez."

Perrie smiles back. "Call it a woman's intuition. Now go back to bed with your boy." The cheeky wink isn't missed. 

He does as he is told after finishing a cuppa of his own.  Michael has moved from his previous position and is mow lying prone, curled up with the sheets tangled around his legs. 

Niall crawls into bed and gives up on the blankets. It's not that cold yet anyway. 

"You were gone for a while," Michael remarks, voice husky and scratchy from sleep. 

"Couldn't sleep so I had a cuppa." When Niall rolls over to face Michael, he can just make out the shape of his face, how his jawline is dusted with stubble and the green of his eyes are so sharp in the pale moonlight. 

"And somehow exhaustion makes you cry. Gotcha." There's nothing mean about the way he utters it. If anything, he sounds worried. "Sorry; I listened at the door."

Niall shrugs. "It's not like it's a secret. Some asshole got me falling for him and ditched when he realised he was in too deep. Classic film material."

"Doesn't mean that what he did wasn't wrong," Michael insists. "Your friends sorta filled me in. It's been three months and you haven't even tried to get over him. You know, trying to forget someone only reminds you of them tenfold. If moping and slagging around isn't cutting it, try something new."

It's funny that Michael should be the one to say it. If Niall hasn't been reading the signs wrongly, Michael is definitely into him. 

So he throws caution out the window and leans forward to press his lips to Michael's.  They are chapped and taste faintly of cigarettes. At first, Michael is frozen with shock. But Niall keeps on kissing him, lips gently nudging his apart and nipping at his top lip, almost as though he is begging. It must work because Michael's hands are in his hair, lips moving with Niall's. They are both wearing just boxers so his reactions are easy to gauge. 

Too easy. 

Niall slides his hands down Michael's naked back, scratching at some spots lightly. The respondent moans area delight to his ears, and so is the growing hardness between Michael's legs. Niall slips his fingers under the elastic and tugs it down, doing the same to himself.  It's not ideal without some lube but it's nothing a bit of spit can't fix. 

Things escalate quickly from there. They kiss, although at this point it's more tongue and teeth than an actual kiss.  Michael's young age shows in a way that he comes almost immediately when Niall traces the rim of his entrance with a spit-slick finger. He doesn't bother holding back once Michael comes and the soft cries that Michael muffles by biting his shoulder is admittedly hot. 

"Well," Michael pants, arms and legs going around Niall’s body like a cuddly octopus. Or maybe koala is more fitting. "I did _not_ expect that."

Niall laughs. "I'll take you out properly next time. A dinner at some place with black-tie dress code if that's your thing."

Michael wrinkles his nose. "Nah. That means that I'll have to borrow or buy a suit. Something less fancy is perfectly fine."

"Okay," Niall mumbles as Michael nuzzles him. He manages to reach over for the tissues on the nightstand and wipe them clean. 

Here's to a new beginning, he supposes. 

Then why can he taste the tang of regret in the back of his mouth?

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

“Well, after the fiasco with you and also _him_ , I’m not in a good place to be starting anything,” Niall sighs. Harry sounds so desperate and damn him for sounding so vulnerable. Niall fell for Harry’s innocent act before; he doesn’t want to risk that again. Falling only means that he will break and shatter and he has had more than his fair share of broken heart. It hurts to even think about the possibility of him and Harry getting back together.

“I’ll be your everything,” Harry gushes. He is speaking faster now, rushed and alarmed. “I can’t let you slip away again. Not after I’ve taken this long to pull myself together. Please, just give me once chance.”

Niall knows that he is going to regret saying it, but he says it nonetheless. “My place is still the same. You can come over now.”

 

 

-

 

****

**_Six months ago_ **

 

“You better be dressed,” Nick threatens as he kicks the door open.

Harry answers the door naked. “You’ve seen me naked—oh.”

Behind Nick is a guy, a guy Harry has never seen before. He is fit, Harry supposes. He’s on the side of the scale and has black hair that doesn’t match the colour of his eyebrows. It’s cute how he avoids looking anywhere below where Harry’s nipples are.

“I’ll go put some clothes on,” Harry grouses. He can feel the bloke’s eyes on his arse until he disappears through his bedroom door. It’s only Saturday, so he settles on a pair of worn-in sweatpants and a tee-shirt whose logo has long been washed off. Bare-foot and still half-asleep, Harry returns to the living room. The pretty boy is sitting on the edge of a ratty sofa whilst Nick has made himself comfortable in the loveseat.

“Harry, this is Michael. Michael, this is Harry. He’s got a nudist streak so I do apologise for that travesty. Otherwise, he’s as normal as normal goes these days.”

“You sound like an old man when you say that,” Harry scoffs. Michael snickers at the snide jab, which is poorly disguised as a cough.

“Well, I can’t pretend to be forever young and keep looking for models with skinny arses to fuck,” Nick shrugs.

“And I’m clearly not one of his model boys,” Michael clarifies. His Australian accent is thick and really endearing.

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” The once-over that Harry does is way over the top but he doesn’t mind if it’s obvious. From the looks of it, Michael doesn’t either. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Nah. Water’s fine, if you insist.”

Harry has to stop himself from skipping over to the kitchen because his day turned around pretty well. He expected to be moping around, regretting his choice to text Niall. There is a part of him that just wants to show up at Niall’s doorstep and beg for forgiveness and explain everything. But there is a bigger part of him that fears rejection and the crushing defeat that would follow. And just like that, his day is grey and dull again.

When he returns with three glasses of water, he spots Michael texting on his mobile. He’s got a goofy smile on, which is a dead giveaway that he is talking to his boyfriend or summat.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,’ Harry comments, blasé enough not to give himself away, or so he hopes.

“Yeah. My mate invited me for a lads’ night out. He’s brilliant.” The smile is bordering on being sickening.

“Got you wrapped right around his finger, eh?”

“Not in that sense. At least, not yet.”

“Does that mean that you’re free for a dinner this Friday?” Harry asks, flashing him what Nick calls his lady /lad killer grin.

“Of course.”

 

 

-

 

 

Come Friday morning and Harry can’t shake off the feeling that he’s done something wrong. The sensation of a brick of lead in his stomach doesn’t dissipate. To top it all off, he keeps having nostalgic dreams about what he and Niall used to have. This morning, he woke up with tears in his eyes from dreaming about that time when he and Niall were discussing raising kids.

It’s stupid.

As he pulls on a clean dark blue button-down and black jeans, he does his best to shake off the remnants of his dreams. They are only dreams. Freud might have been onto something when he claimed that dreams represent subconscious desires but Harry’s desire aren’t so ‘subconscious’.

It’s all he wants.

But it’s not time yet. So for the time being, he will do his best to distract himself with pretty boys and fancy restaurants.

The venue for his date with Michael isn’t all that fancy, really. He’s cute when he frowns at the menu, and the way his licks at his lips is subtly sexy.

Michael is easy to talk with. In the span of less than an hour, Harry finds out that Michael is from Sydney and that he is seriously considering moving to England for good. He admits with a shy smile that he can play the guitar, another similarity to Niall aside from his sunny smile.

He needs to pull himself together. Here he is, on a date with a nice guy for the first time in ages, and he can’t stop remembering what his ex was like. That’s got to rank the highest on a scale of being pathetic, huh?

The date goes on without a hitch. Harry drops Michael off at his place and upon his insisting, Harry stays for tea. Of course, that ends up with them sprawled out on the sofa with Harry’s hand down the back of Michael’s trousers and same with Michael as well. They are making out there is no tomorrow and his dick pressing into the zip of his jeans is getting more than bearably uncomfortable.

“Hey, you okay with this?” Michael affirms as he takes a break from leaving a huge bruise between Harry’s smaller nipples.

“Yeah,” Harry groans, bucking his hips up to rub their clothed cocks together for some relief.

“Budge over then,” Michael smirks. He turns around so that he is facing Harry’s feet and he gets the general idea of what is about to happen. Harry happily obliges and they take off their trousers in haste. It’s a nice sight, having Michael’s balls and semi-erection hang over his face. He realises just how much he missed having sex. The strong smell of man is all he can get and he doesn’t even hesitate before he licks a stripe upwards from Michael’s perineum to the rim of his hole. Michael jerks up at that, hole twitching and the tip of his dick sluices out more precome. The Aussie has his fingers loosely curled around Harry’s cock, not really doing much. Harry starts suckling on his balls, which doesn’t help any with Michael’s lack of involvement.

“C’mon, am I that good that you can’t even move?” Harry smirks, thumb teasing at the slit.

“Sh-shut up,” Michael mutters. Harry cranes his neck around to see his pale cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. He tightens his fingers around Harry before he gives it a swift pump.

“Ah, shit. This isn’t your first time with a bloke, is it?” Harry really hopes not. He doesn’t want to be responsible for getting a young guy attached to him after a first-time thing and then breaking his heart because Harry just can’t handle that sort of thing.

“Hell no. Would you shut it if I tell you that you are kinda good at this?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Michael laps at the tip of Harry’s dick before taking it in. It doesn’t take long for him to deep-throat Harry, which is impressive. Harry returns the favour, though he doesn’t stop playing with the rim of Michael’s hole entirely. The reactions he gets from just barely dipping his forefinger inside is scrumptious and he works up to two fingers in no time.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come soon if you keep that up,” Michael’s voice is so hoarse and needy, and Harry wants to just wreck him.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Harry adds his tongue to his fingers, keeping one hand on Michael’s dick for languid strokes. He wishes that he could have seen the face that Michael made as he came but he figures that there will be a next time for that. Michael can’t seem to concentrate on blowing him so Harry has to finish himself off.

“Sorry about that. But you really should have heeded my warning,” Michael says as they clean up, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“I didn’t mind. As long as we get to have a round two sometime in the near future, all’s good.”

Michael grins. “Round two, huh?”

“Definitely.”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

Harry is drenched when he shows up at Niall’s doorstep. Niall’s eyes are red and his cheeks are flushed. A million emotions crash into Harry’s heart and he has to suppress the strong desire to just wrap Niall up into his arm and beg for his forgiveness.

“Hi,” he mumbles.

“Hey. Ah, come in.” Niall steps aside and Harry follows him inside. His flat hasn’t changed one bit and it appears that they are alone in it.

“I guess ‘how’ve you been?’ wouldn’t quite cut it,” Harry jokes. It’s weird, being back here after all these months. Niall looks sleep-rumpled with his blond hair sticking up in random directions and he is wearing his favourite The Eagles shirt and pyjama trousers.

“No, it wouldn’t.”

They sit in silence around the table. Niall fiddles with the handle of his mug, occasionally bringing it up to take small sips of his tea.

“You said you would explain yourself,” Niall finally mutters. “So explain. Explain why had let me fall for you and left when you decided it was convenient for you. You had me in every sense of the word and I was ready to be yours! But you were never mine, were you? You even had the guts to talk about marriage like it was nothing when you never had your heart in your words. Trapped in your past like the protagonist of some tragic love story. I guess if this was a tragic love story we would have had our happy ending long time ago and save us all the heartbreak. And don’t give me some bullshit about how you couldn’t ‘let’ yourself love someone because of the shitty way you had been loved. The heart is a funny thing; it can be broken by a word uttered most carelessly and yet it can’t easily be pieced back together by pretty words.”

Niall’s hand is shaking and when Harry raises his eyes to meet Niall’s, he can see the clear blue eyes glassy with tears and pain.

“I don’t think I have enough of my heart left to give you a second chance even if I wanted to!”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Five months ago_ **

 

“Y’know,” Niall smirks, “if ya wanted to try some bondage, all you had to do was ask, not kidnap me out of my own home.”

Michael laughs. He is still walking behind Niall, it seems. With the bleeding blindfold on, Niall hasn’t the faintest idea of what’s going on. He was rudely awakened by his flat mate and forced to get dressed at around nine. Michael was waiting in the living room, swinging a blindfold around his finger as he smiled innocently.

Fast-forward thirty minutes and Niall feels like a pig being led to a slaughterhouse.

“I have claustrophobia,” Niall tries.

All he gets is a scoff from his boyfr—wait, are they boyfriends? They never said it aloud so Niall isn’t sure. Whatever. His imminent (and probable) demise is of utmost importance right now.

“I looked it up and Google says that being sightless shouldn’t affect you unless you feel like you’re in an enclosed space.”

“Dammit. Just take me wherever we’re headed and take the thing off already!”

“You’re cute when you’re impatient.” There is a soft brush of lips to the side of his neck and that’s enough to keep him content for a few more minutes.

“Are we there yet?” Niall whinges in his best kiddie voice.

“Wow, remind to never put an effort in to surprise you again. Romancing you is so hard.” Niall sticks his tongue out.

Michael finally loosens the fabric around his eyes and the brightness is blinding. Once he adjusts to it, though, his heart goes all fuzzy.

The sun is setting in the background as a small floats on the Thames, twinkling with a thousand fairy lights. There is a basket in the middle of it and Niall can see a bottle of champagne peeking out from the tablecloth.

“You’d better not have Tesco sandwiches in there,” Niall jokes.

“Nah. I ordered take-away from that Thai place that you like.”

“This is amazing,” Niall muses as he steps into the boat.

“That’s what I was aiming for,” Michael smiles.

“Does this elegant dinner include outdoor fucking underneath some bridge?”

Michael laughs. “I don’t think it’ll get dark enough for that. Plus, cologne can buffer the river smells only so much.”

Niall shrugs. “True. Guess I’ll have to settle for car sex at the far corner of the parking lot then.”

 

 

-

 

 

“I thought—fuck—you were joke—hey, no fair—when you mentioned car sex,” Michael pants out.

Niall shrugs, one hand still wrapped around Michael’s cock and the other reaching into the glove compartment for some lube and condoms he may have stashed a long time ago. A quick check and fortunately for them, neither have expired yet. He has to double-check that neither have expired but so far, it’s all smooth sailing.

The car is parked under a tree and with the sun down, he doubts that anyone can see what they are up to unless they are stood right at the car windows. It’s cute that Michael thought Niall was joking about having sex in such a public and mundane place. It might not be the most ideal place but Niall is really feeling it tonight and he knows he’s not just thinking with his dick. Michael is a great guy and Niall can see them sharing a future together, be it the figurative sunset or simply living in the same flat. Although, he does need to work on not getting ahead of himself again. No one wants a broken heart second time around.

He needs to stop thinking about sad things when he is about to have sex, that’s what needs to happen. Thankfully, Michael is distracted by the sneaky hand job to have noticed the little stilt in the rhythm. He kisses the side of Michael’s neck in secret apology and gets rid of his trousers all the way. Trying to blow someone in the front seat of a car is always tricky and not something that he can practice easily. So he leans the seat back as far as it would go and pushes Michael down on it as well.

“Sexy,” Michael smirks. Niall just sticks his tongue out.

“You try giving me head in the front seat next time then,” Niall grumbles, now working on sliding the seat back.

“Why wait? No time like the present, isn’t it?”

Trying to manoeuvre their way around to a somewhat comfortable sixty-nine position in a car is a challenge to say the least. After a few minutes of seriously unsexy fumbling and a few bumped heads, they agree to move to the back of the car so that they have a bit more room.

“Fuck,” Niall grunts as he fists Michael’s cock and simultaneously dodges an accidental kick from him. “I’m starting to think that maybe we should have waited two more minutes before decided on this.”

Michael licks at his taint before he answers, “That’s not what your body is saying at all.”

“You play dirty, Mr Clifford.”

“Never claimed otherwise, Mr Horan.”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

“Tell me what you want me to do, then,” Harry begs. All strength saps out of his legs and he crumples to the floor. Niall flinches and his outstretches left arm half-way, as if he wants to hold Harry up.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Niall sinks to the floor in front of Harry and grabs a hold of his shirt front and forces him to look into his eyes. Harry’s heart clenches as he realises just how much he has missed the sight of Niall’s blue eyes. He wishes that he still had the privilege of choosing to drown in them forever, as cheesy as that sounds.

Harry doesn’t know what he should have been expecting. A sharp punch on his jaw seems to fit the bill for Niall though.

“Bastard!” Niall growls. He shakes Harry by his collar as he cries and rambles on. “You don’t know what kind of ten months I have had, do ya? At first, it was like living in my own personal hell, except a million, billion times worse because I had no one but myself to blame. There I was, all alone and you found me. I was the one who fell for you and when you ran away like a coward, I was the one left behind. Did you know that heartbreak can hurt physically? There were days when I had to curl up and literally hold myself together ‘cause I thought I was going to shatter and fall apart if I didn’t do that. And I was convinced that you never loved me, that’s the hardest and coldest part. I lost myself in loving you and look where that has gotten me.”

Harry turns his head. He can’t bear it. He physically cannot continue to hold Niall gaze when his eyes are burning with hurt, betrayal, sadness, and much more all swirling and warring against one another.

“Look at me, dammit!” Niall’s fingers grip the sides of Harry’s face and turns it forcibly. Tears roll down his rosy cheeks and the reckless side of Harry just wants to kiss Niall until all of his tears of dried up.

But that’s nothing but a distant dream.

 

 

-

 

****

**_Four months ago_ **

 

“Why?” Niall pouts.

“Because it’s healthy to spend some time apart from the person you’re not-dating,” Ashton stares him down with a level gaze.

“Says the guy who literally spent the first two weeks with his boyfriend shacked up in a flat,” Niall grumbles.

“Whatever. It’s summer so as per our tradition, we’re gonna get the hell outta town and go somewhere. I hear Canada is a great place to visit this time of the year,” Josh pipes up. Niall hates it when the two of them gang up on him.

“It’s not like I still have to pay back student loans or anything,” Niall points out.

“I have an auntie who lives in Vancouver so we’ll be fine as long as we can scrape up the money for plane tickets. Plus, aren’t you a little sick of same ol’ England too?” Josh relents.

Niall sighs. “Fine. But only in the name of our friendship, y’hear?”

Ashton grins at him sweetly. “You’re the best. Love ya, bro.”

“Sure, sure.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Whoa. I thought it was rare for someone to spot a whale!” Niall exclaims, fingers snapping away.

“Orcas aren’t that shy in this part of Canada, it seems,” Josh shrugs.

Josh’s aunt happened to know the owner of a cruise ship, which is how Niall found himself on a week-long cruise around the West Coast of Canada at short notice. It’s been nonstop fun of eating, drinking, partying, and sightseeing. As much as he misses Michael, Niall has to admit that flying over to Canada was a great idea.

“Ooh, another one!” Ashton points out. He plucks the camera from Josh’s hands to take a shaky picture, which devolves into a wild chase around the deck whilst the other guests laugh at their couple shenanigans.

“I need to exercise more,” Josh pants out as he collapses on the spot next to Niall with Ashton in tow after a few laps around the deck.

“Isn’t shagging a form of exercise?” Ashton jibes, earning a sharp elbow from Niall.

“There’s kids on this cruise, y’know,” Niall reminds him. Case in point, a little girl clutching a plushie to her chest walks past them.

“Yes, yes. We must protect the young from all this filth in the world,” Ashton drawls.

“Why did I ever decide to share a flat with you is beyond me,” Niall sighs. He checks his mobile and to his delight, it’s time for the afternoon snacks buffet. “Time for some quality snacks. You coming or are ya gonna shack up in the cabin again?”

“Snacks, of course,” Ashton replies with a blinding smile.

“Something tells me that you’re planning on saving some of those snacks for unholy things that foods aren’t meant to be used in,” Niall comments with the shake of his head.

 

 

-

 

 

After the snacks, the cruise usually puts in a slot for free time with the option of various games strewn out across the ship. With Josh and Ashton doing the unmentionables in their cabin, Niall has no choice but to wander the decks.

On his stroll, he spots a door that is clearly off-limits. The frame looks decrepit and the doorknob looks rusty enough to give him tetanus just from touching it. Regardless, Niall checks to ensure that none of the crew are watching him and slips inside the door.

The first thing he realises is that it’s pitch-black inside wherever he is. The second thing is that his feet are mid-air after a few steps.

“Fucking hell!” he yells as he falls through the darkness. Thankfully, the fall lasts maybe a second or two. He doesn’t really get to measure how long the fall is since he is knocked out from the impact.

 

Niall’s head is in a scramble when he opens his eyes. He is back in his bedroom and the sun is coming up. He remembers this. Oh, he remembers this memory all too well. It’s the morning after _his_ little stint a couple months back and the sadness and rawness of that moment comes rushing back in full tide. Niall’s eyes feel hot as the tears roll down his cheeks. Just as he recalls, Ashton bursts in through the door, nearly slamming the door off its hinges.

There is nothing that either of them can do other than waiting it out until Niall is too exhausted both physically and emotionally to cry another tear. Ashton brings in Niall’s favourite tea and cereals after a while and even though Ashton’s mouth and hands are moving, Niall can’t register a single word he says. Being the good friend he is, Ashton sticks it out and comforts Niall with hugs and more comfort food.

 

Niall wipes the tears from his eyes when he wakes up. He must have landed on the cold floor, which has kicked up a mountain of stale dust and dirt. None of his body parts seem to have been injured in the fall so Niall stands back up and inspects his surroundings. Even after waiting a few minutes for his night vision to kick in, all he can see is black and very dark grey. He takes out his mobile and turns on the torch function.

“Whoa,” he breathes out.

In front of him is a scene straight out of a mystery or horror film. There are half-way unloaded cargos stretched out before his eyes. He hopes that the random lumps he can see aren’t people’s remains. Judging by the vile smell, he surmises that some of the cargo used to contain food supplies.

He turns around to face the ledge that he fell from. There is a ladder, however, it doesn’t look stable enough to hold up his weight. He would much rather checkout other escape routes. It takes Niall half an hour to get to the other side of the below-deck space. He does find another ladder on the opposite wall except it’s missing a few rungs. Otherwise, this ladder is in much better condition than the first one.

“Better than staying here ‘til I starve to death,” he mutters. He carefully balances his mobile between his teeth and starts to climb up the ladder. There are quite a few moments when he almost falls back down but he manages to climb to the top. The ordeal reminds him greatly of that time when he once sneaked inside an abandoned warehouse with _him_ and spent the night there. It even had a basement and all.

Once he reaches the top of the ladder, he shouts and bangs on the door until someone opens it for him. He gets a scolding from a crew member not to do it ever again and he has no doubt that his friends will tease him about this for ages. Whatever.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

Niall almost instantly regrets demanding that Harry look into his eyes when Harry obliges. He can the tears forming in those green, green eyes and Niall has never been strong against tears.

“Why can’t you give me a second chance?” Harry sobs.

“Because I don’t have it left in me to do it all over again,” Niall answers, bitterness seeping into every syllable.

“I really shouldn’t have gone out with you and fallen in love with you but I did. It happened and I regret the way I reacted, Niall. I’m so fucked up that I’m not even sure why I thought it was a good idea to come here other than the fact that I really wanted to see your face again.”

“Fucked up?” Niall scoffs. “You got that right.”

“No, you don’t understand. There was a guy—”

“Isn’t there always,” Niall sneers.

Harry ignores the jibe. “He was the first one who told me that he loved me. For the first few months, it was like living out my own fairy tale ending. He showered me with gifts and affections and all of our friends got along. Only Grimmy hated him for no apparent reason at that time and I chalked it up to a best friends’ jealousy type of thing. Skip forward several months and he turns out to be an emotionally abusive and manipulative bastard. He was two-timing me with three other people and when I figured it out, he was the one who got mad and nearly beat me to a pulp before storming out. Served a bit of jail time and he was forced to counselling whilst I shut down my heart save for the soft spot I have for Nick.

“That’s where you come in. As a celebration of sorts for getting over that horrible jerk, I hosted that anti-Valentine’s party and you happened to be the top server at the restaurant. The rest, I suppose, is history. A twisted, and dark one but a story we wrote for ourselves nonetheless.”

“You think that by feeding me this tragic back story I’ll forgive you?” Niall asks, his hands clenching into fists; they shake slightly. “I spent months in tears and it still hurts to see in in front of me! Let’s not forget the mess that we got into with _Michael_. I guess what he did is almost like your fabled ex, huh?”

“Niall I . . .”

“Why couldn’t you stay away longer? I would have forgotten the pain you left me!”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Three months ago_ **

 

“Man, I’m digging this abnormally hot weather,” Nick grins.

“Which is exactly why we’re spending it on the top of a hill to ‘hike’,” Harry grumbles.

“The view is worth it.”

“I want the normal below-thirties weather that England is famous for,” Harry whinges.

“We shall have to wait for the day when it gets back to normal then,” Nick sneers. He rummages through his knapsack and hands Harry the frozen bottle of water they prepared the night before.

“Fuck that. If you are done with taking your hipster photos, can we please go back where civilisation and air conditioning exists? I don’t ever wanna leave my flat until the day we reach the typical, normal temps again.”

“Yeah, yeah you wuss. I guess those flashy abs are purely for show then.”

“Of course they are,” Harry deadpans.

Nick shakes his head, a fond smile breaking through his façade. “There’s no winning with you.”

The descent is easier despite the fact that Harry’s calves feel like they’re on fire. He guilts Nick into buying him lunch at the new Greek restaurant that he has been eyeing with zero shame though so it wasn’t a pointless affair.

“Don’t you even think about asking me to make this a regular occurrence,” Harry warns. “You’ll have to properly pay me for that.”

“And here I thought that I could be that good mate who leads you to a life of health imbued with nature,” Nick snickers. “Relax. I’m a man who is as attached to his phone as the next bloke in this day and age.”

“Careful, Grimmy; your true ancient age is showing.”

“That’s an old joke now,” Nick points out. “Pun fully intended.”

“You’re the worst,” Harry nudges him with his shoulder.

“Chemistry would say that like attracts like,” Nick counters.

“I was the worst in sciences so I’ll have no choice but to take you up on that.”

Laughing, Nick hooks his arms around Harry’s shoulders as they walk over to Harry’s car. They turn the radio almost as soon as the car starts up. It’s one of Sam Smith’s sappy love songs so Harry considers turning it back off.

“I swear that you’re allergic to sappy songs unless they are by your favourite singers,” Nick comments.

“Since when was that any of your concern?” Harry retorts. He changes the station only to get some hip hop that’s out of his element.

“You’re my friend, believe it or not. Being friends entails caring for the other’s welfare in all matters. Speaking of, how are things with Michael?”

Harry shrugs. “We aren’t serious, at least I think we aren’t. We hang out and sometimes we go on dates. I guess friends with benefits is the best way to put it. Neither of us have a problem with that label so all’s good.”

Nick raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure that it’s just sex? You know what they say about that.”

“We both know Michael and it’s weird that you’re so inclined to know the details of what we do. You’re such an odd one,” Harry replies.

“Says you. I think it’s a good thing that you’ve got someone like me,” Nick remarks.

“Someone crazy enough to drag me out on a hike when it’s fucking sweltering outside?”

“I make you forget sometimes, don’t I?” Nick ignores the snide remark.

A heavy moment passes before Harry nods almost unnoticeably. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you living with ghosts anymore.”

It’s a good thing that Harry is driving because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to hide his trembling hands so easily.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

Maybe Niall was too harsh. In his head he knows that abuse isn’t a light matter. In his heart, however, it doesn’t matter. He wants to be selfish and ignore the everlasting damage Harry has from the past abuse. The shock in Harry’s eyes says it all and then some.

And then Harry starts to chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry gasps out in-between his nearly hysterical laughter. “We’re so messed up that we would be perfect for a stupid, romantic comedy film. Maybe we’re too fucked up for that.”

“Something darker then,” Niall retorts. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

“You must think that I’m not taking this seriously,” Harry points out. “How selfish of you to think that you were the only hurting in my time of absence.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about how you were hurting too because of what you did to me and also because of your grand old first love. You’re the one who chooses what memories to live with so you can’t just blame that abusive ex of yours!” Niall bursts out.

“I know,” Harry drops his gaze. “I know.”

Niall forces him to look back up. “I can’t believe that I let you come back in a moment of weakness. You should leave. Now.”

“But Niall—”

“Just go!”

 

 

-

 

 

**_Two months ago_ **

 

“Hey, Mikey,” Niall murmurs. “What are we?”

Michael blinks up at him from his lap. Saturdays are usually when Niall slacks off and after all the fun he and Michael got up to until well past the middle of the night, he thinks he deserves to laze around in Michael’s bed.

“Two people who have mind-blowing sex regularly,” Michael replies with a cheeky grin.

Niall pretends to punch his jaw. “Be more serious please.”

“I dunno. Never been good at the whole boyfriend thing. But I guess it’s up to both of us if we want to call us that.”

A blush creeps up Niall’s cheeks. He and Michael have been sort-of-dating for a long time now, to be honest. He has always put off asking the big question because he’s never had the courage. Maybe he was afraid that the moment he had a solid definition of what they were, it would all fall to ruins. No, it is _exactly_ what he is afraid of.

Michael slides off Niall’s lap and sits up. “Do you want us to be boyfriends?” he asks.

“I . . . I don’t know. I want to presume that we _have_ been boyfriends for a while now, considering everything that’s passed between us. You know what, let’s just forget about the whole thing. Sorry I made this awkward. Let’s just go back to cuddling.” He raises his arm to hook it around Michael but Michael doesn’t let him.

“Niall, you do realise that I like you a lot? I’m fine with us being ‘official’ boyfriends if you are. Okay?” He cups Niall’s face with both hands and kisses Niall’s forehead.

“Okay,” Niall echoes. He smiles, which Michael reciprocates. Michael tilts his head up for a kiss as Niall wraps is arms around his shoulders. It’s sweet but still passionate at the same time as Niall loses himself in the familiar taste and feel of Michael’s lips. He feels safe in Michael’s arms and maybe that’s all the confirmation he needs. It’s due time that he stopped living in the past.

With that in mind, Niall pushes Michael down so that he can start living fully in the present, without the pesky clothes on their bodies, of course.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

“Wait, Niall, please!” Harry pleads.

“What? You’re not done telling your story? Fine. I don’t blame you for what happened with Michael, I don’t blame you for this heartbreak, and I don’t blame you for the way you acted. I forgive you. Now leave.” Niall stands up and opens the door. Or he tries. Harry has scooted back so that Niall can’t open it unless he budges. _This had better not backfire,_ he hopes. With his back pressed to the door, he stands up as well.

“That’s not how apologies work, Niall. You clearly haven’t forgiven me for everything and can we _please_ not bring up Michael? He’s not the reason I called you. I called you because I was finally ready stop running away from my past and to face you. Call me a brat, but I don’t want to leave until you mean those words.”

Niall glares at him. “You can’t do this to me, dammit! We’re both being selfish idiots. What d’you want out of this? Do you need my forgiveness just so you can move on or do you want us to get back together?”

Harry smiles bitterly. “Moving on is on the list. I’m not oblivious so there’s no way that I’m going to ask for you to take me back. Restarting as a friend would be lovely, though. I said I didn’t want to leave but maybe it’s best that I leave you alone and give you time to think this over. I’m sorry for being an immature brat about this. Good night.” He was stupid to think that this would work. He hasn’t thought past the point where he and Niall would meet and now everything is falling apart like it did ten months ago. It’s not like something that was already in pieces can break any further.

He steps away from the door and opens it. He doesn’t hear Niall say goodbye, nor does he expect it as he walks away.

 

 

-

 

 

**_One month ago_ **

 

“Change the channel,” Niall complains into Michael’s thigh. They’re lounging around at Michael’s flat and it takes way too much effort for Niall to lift his face from Michael’s thigh and reach for the remote himself. Michael is kind of bony and not the best pillow but he still likes the physical intimacy.

“You do realise that your hand is closer to it?” Michael retorts. His hand has stopped petting the top of Niall’s head and he doesn’t like that one bit. “I’ll have to reach over awkwardly to pick it up, especially with your head in my lap.”

“I’m comfy here, though,” Niall whines. He turns his head so that he can use his puppy face on his boyfriend.

“That face ain’t working,” Michael deadpans. He does have to look away in order to say that so Niall counts as a small victory.

“Fine,” Niall huffs out and pushes himself up to his hands and knees. He tries to make it look sexy as he stretches out his arm and picks up the remote. Michael’s mobile is next to the remote and as he is about to return to lying on Michael’s lap, the mobile screen lights up with a text. He doesn’t mean to read it but it reads, ‘ _can I come over?’_

From Harry.

For a moment, it’s as though Niall’s world is spinning around him with him as its axis. His stomach knots up and he can vaguely hear Michael asking if he’s alright.

“Who’s Harry?” he manages to choke out, looking up into Michael’s eyes. He can’t cry right now. There must be tonnes of other Harrys in Warwick. And this Harry could just be a friend of Michael’s.

Michael doesn’t say anything, not that he has to; his expression says it all. He can’t quite hide the fear and panic in his eyes, nor the way his jaws clench at the mention of Harry’s name.

“You were cheating on me?” Niall shouts. He lurches away from Michael’s body and stands up. “With Harry?”

“Fuck,” is the first thing that comes out of Michael’s mouth. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let this go on for so long.”

“’So long’?” Niall parrots. “You thought that you wouldn’t get caught cheating on me with another guy? Oh, let me guess, you thought that you could play us both and eventually ditch whoever started to bore you! You must have thought that I was pathetic for getting all worked up about us being official, or all those times when you saw me unable to move on from my ex!”

Niall doesn’t wait for Michael to come up with any more excuses and storms towards the door. He flinches when Michael grabs his wrist.

“Let go of me,” Niall demands, trying to shake off the grip. Michael doesn’t relent, however, and tightens his fingers around Niall’s wrist.

“I never thought that you were pathetic, Niall. I really liked you both and I couldn’t choose. I really am sorry that it led to this, Niall.” He releases Niall.

Niall slowly turns around to face Michael. “Let me ask you one thing before I go.” Michael nods, green eyes not quite meeting Niall’s blue ones. “Is Harry’s last name Styles?”

Michael furrows his eyes. “Y-yeah. How’d you know?”

“Piss off,” Niall grits out.

As soon as he is outside of Michael’s flat, the tears threaten to make a comeback. His life must be a joke. As soon as he’s managed to move on from Harry, or at least thought he did, that bastard just had to waltz back into his life. How long has this been going on? Did they meet before he met Michael? After? Did they have the kind of relationship that he and Michael shared?

He returns to his flat in a daze. He wants to cry but he also wants to go back to Michael and punch him. He needs to tell his mates about Michael and find comfort in their presence but he doesn’t want them to think that this is just like nine months ago.

He soon finds himself in his bed, his pillow soaked with his tears and the covers cocooning him. He can’t believe that he let this happen to him all over again. He allowed for another pretty face to charm his way into his heart.

Maybe he won’t be so miserable if he never found love again.

 

 

-

 

_‘No, actually can we talk right now?_ ’ the text message from Michael reads. Harry stares at his mobile blankly for a moment. That’s never a good way to start a conversation.

 _‘Sure,’_ he sends back _. ‘In person?’_

_‘Yeah. Can I come over to your place instead?’_

_‘Yep.’_

It takes Michael half an hour to arrive at Harry’s front steps. Michael foregoes their usual hello hug and makes no move to step inside.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks.

“I’ve been cheating on you,” Michael blurts out. “Actually, I’ve been two-timing you with someone else.”

Harry knows that he should feel more betrayed. After all, they were more than just friends with benefits. Damn, he must be more damaged than he or Nick thought.

“Okay,” is all he says. “I guess you came to say that we’re done then. I’m cool with that.”

Michael sputters. “I—wow, now I feel conceited for imagining that you’d be angrier. I thought we had something special going on?”

“I thought so too but seeing that you had two special someones in your life, maybe we were both wrong,” he answers.

Michael opens and closes his mouth a couple times as though he can’t decide what to say. After a long pause, he mumbles, “Does the name Niall ring any bell to ya?”

Harry’s hands clench into fists. “I know of him, yeah.”

“Fucking thought so,’ Michael mutters. “You’re his ex, aren’t you? The one who dumped him last year?”

“You’re hardly in a place to be judging me right now,” Harry points out.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’ll get lost then. Sorry for everything.” And just like that, Michael leaves without trying to explain himself any further.

Harry stares at the door for a long moment before he trudge to the living room and plops down onto the sofa. He can’t believe that he hurt Niall again. Granted, he wasn’t aware of it but the fact that his being with Michael hurt Niall doesn’t change. He’s still at fault for breaking Niall’s heart all over again.

Maybe he’s not the type of person who deserves to be loved after all.

 

 

-

 

 

**_Present_ **

 

Niall stares at the closed door. He used to think that he never wanted to see Harry ever again. But seeing him again has undone all the progress that he has made in the past ten months. He’s back in that place where his heart was in shambles.

Fuck this. He’s not going to play the victim again.

“Harry!” he shouts as he swings the door open. The lift doors are closing so both Harry and Niall fumble to keep it open. Harry steps off the lift and stands in front of Niall as if to say, ‘what now?’

“I still haven’t forgiven you completely, rather I can’t,” Niall admits. “But I can’t let you walk away again. I can’t promise that we’ll go back to being boyfriends in the future. I think we can be friends again like you said. I want you back in my life, Harry. Can you promise me that I won’t regret this?”

Harry smiles even though his eyes are shiny with tears. “Yes. God, Niall, I promise you that I’ll never hurt you the way I did before. I’ll make sure that you can’t even doubt my feelings for you. I’ve been in love with you for so long and I’m sorry that I couldn’t own up to my own feelings.”

Niall pulls Harry in for a hug. He doesn’t feel any different from what he remembers. He still wears the same cologne and, yeah, his hair is longer but other than that, nothing’s changed physically.

When they break away from the hug, Niall lightly traces the forming bruise on Harry’s jaw. “Fuck, I’m sorry I punched you.”

“No worries. I think I deserved that,” Harry smirks.

“No one deserves to be punched. Maybe your ex but definitely not you,” Niall replies. “So I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. Give me a ring when you want to see me again.”

“Got it.”

Harry scratches his nose. “Uh, I’ll get going now.”

“Oh, sure. Bye, Harry.”

“Bye, Niall.”

Harry takes the stairs this time and Niall watches him until he disappears out of sight. He heaves a deep sigh as he returns to his flat. He can’t help but smile as he recalls their awkward goodbye.

“It’ll work out this time,” he assures himself. “Just gotta believe in us one more time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was worried about this series growing to be similar to _Broken Like a Promise_ series and then a wild Michael appeared, stayed, and then it was downhill from there. Classic example when the story writes itself. Of course, any form of cheating IRL is always a HUGE deal breaker!  
>  I guess the Harry’s past bit is cliché but I think a moderate amount of clichés don’t hurt . . . ? And I don’t mean to fetishize or romanticise abusive relationships. 
> 
> Now that I’m finally done with this, I feel like I shouldn’t have experimented with changing my writing style for this particular story. ~~Now I’m off to figure out what other story I can write off of “Clean” and actually put it into the 1989 songfic series.~~
> 
>  
> 
> I kinda wanna do an epilogue but I don't know when I'll have the time for it. Or, tbh, if anyone wants another part to this series.


End file.
